The goat who thought he was a dog.

I sliced my thumb open at work two days ago – they’re still talking about it, I did such a good job – and it’s a pain to type so this will be short. 

Unlessofcourseyoudon’tmindallthewordstogetherbecauseIcan’tusethespacebar.

“The goat who thought he was a dog.”  I thought this would be a good title for the post – maybe even a children’s story.   You know the kind of story: where the goat does foolish things because he thinks he’s a dog and I could write them down in a lovingly charming way, so as to make his foolishness endearing.  But it would be hard to compare Ty to a dog because even though I’ve known some idiot dogs, Ty has them all beat.

In a way, though, I sort of feel bad for the poor guy.  Afterall, his life of late reads like a Greek tragedy: we killed his sons, banished his wives and daughter and left him to rule an empty and desolate land alone.  Well, it isn’t empty and desolate, but it certainly isn’t a goat Wonderland, either.  So, now he spends his days wandering around but mostly lounging outside the dogrun - his new, adopted home.  And when a select few dogs go on a walk, he follows along behind trying to fit in.  Like a big, shaggy dog with horns.

And finally, as promised, here are some pictures of Ty.  Everybody, this is Ty.  Ty, this is Everybody:

Here he is: the great, lumbering beast.

 

Trying to fit in with some of the calmer dogs. 

Gilligan trying to herd and Ty having none of it.  They’re quite the pair, these two: each convinced their way is the right way, but neither is willing to listen to the other.

…really having none of it.  Watch out, Gilligan, I think he’s about to make his point!

Lastly, here’s our guy, back from a car ride to town.  Well, okay: he didn’t go to town.  He just snuck in when Jenn was busy unloading the car.  But you weren’t sure there for a minute, were you?